"I was fifteen, okay! I can't be held respon—" He cut off as their target shifted positions in his hotel room. Jayson scoffed in disgust. Andres Mendoza was just as preoccupied with the woman in his room as he had been for the last hour.

"How long can this man go on?"

Finally, after another twenty minutes the woman put her clothes back on and left. Andres poured himself a fresh drink before putting his shirt on. The tall, dark skinned Spaniard wrapped the striped tie around his neck once again. He grinned as he stared out the window of his hotel room, knotting the tie. Jayson zeroed in on his target. His mind automatically calculated all the varying factors in order to assure he would achieve his intended trajectory.

"Target marked."

Joseph checked the small device in his hand and then glanced at Jay. "Fire."

Jayson pulled the trigger and then ducked behind the four foot wall he'd previously been kneeling in front of. Immediately he started to dismantle the gun, placing the parts back in the briefcase-like box.

"Code Fifteen," Joe muttered as he spied over the wall with binoculars, alerting his partner to the fact that Mendoza's men had sprung into action. Jayson nodded his affirmative and snapped the locks shut on the case. He ducked behind an air conditioner, making certain he wasn't visible. Joe followed behind him. Together they exited the hotel roof and went down the stairs. On the second floor they entered into the hallway of doors, heading for the elevator.

"Time for lunch?" Joe asked as they caught the door just in time. There were several other people there, but that only aided them in their camouflage of business suits. Jayson nodded.

"Yes, I think a job well done deserves some reward." Jayson named a nearby local restaurant and Joe nodded in agreement.

As much as they both wanted to stop and get something to eat, their job wasn't over yet. They still had to pick up the goods and get to the airport. Jayson sent his partner a silent signal and Joe coughed once to let him know the message was understood. The elevator binged and the doors glided open; the two impeccably dressed men stepping out. Once the pair had exited the hotel and walked half a block, Jayson turned down a different street while Joe continued north.

"Phase One completed." Jayson said under his breath but loud enough for his technical support to hear. Originally they weren't supposed to have one, but then The Director had decided he wanted a play-by-play every hour. There was nothing Jayson hated more than not being trusted to complete a mission. Even if he was only twenty-three, he'd completed more missions than many agents his senior. Shaking his head, Jayson focused once more on the task at hand. The hunger was starting to get to him.

Jayson passed a man walking with his dog and made eye contact. Continuing to walk, he subtly dropped the briefcase into a nearby garbage bin without stopping. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he pretended to be tapping out a message on the full keyboard. Acting distracted while truly paying attention to every detail was one of his many specialties. From the corner of his eye he saw a member of their support team take the case out of the trash and then continue walking. Without looking up from his screen, Jayson doubled back. He put the phone back in his pocket and then stopped when he saw Joe standing next to a street vendor.

"Ah, Henri, there you are." Jayson said and Joe turned to look at him. He turned to the man behind the cart and laughed, gesturing to Joseph. "He's worse than a child."

The man just stared blankly at them. Joe opened his mouth to translate for the man, but Jayson pulled on his arm impatiently. They both played their parts perfectly, as though they had gone over it beforehand. No one would know they were winging it.

"We're going to be late for the meeting. You don't need any more trinkets."

Reluctantly Joe followed his partner away from the vendor. They turned to the left to see four police vehicles and an ambulance in front of the Villa Real Hotel. Jayson muttered a curse under his breath.

"The police are already here. You'll have to be quick. Everyone will be preoccupied with Mendoza, but I don't know how long his men will allow the press attention."

Joe nodded, though Jayson already knew he had the plan memorized.

"Don't get caught," he said with a smirk at Jayson. Then he went off to find the unmarked kitchen door that they'd scoped out earlier. Jayson approached the front entrance. As expected, a police officer approached him.

"¿Cuál es su nombre, señor?"

"What is going on?" Jayson demanded. "Let me get through. I have to be in a meeting in two minutes. What am I supposed to tell my boss? He'll never believe this! What's all this commotion?"

The police officer looked at a loss. Turning, he shouted something in Spanish at one of his colleagues. The other man hurried over, asking the first officer what he wanted.

Jayson crossed his arms over his chest and made an expression of anger. He checked his watch.

"This is wasting my time. I have to get my briefcase for a meeting I need to be at in five minutes. What's the hold up?"

"There has been a shooting, sir." The second officer said calmly. His accent was thick, but his English was good. "We must check everyone's identity to assure they are checked in here."

"My name is Laurence Bittermen. If I'm not allowed into my room in the next two seconds I'll sue. Believe me; you do not want me suing the Spanish police department for misconduct."

The officer looked worried and glanced over his shoulder.

"We have to affirm your identity, sir."

Jayson scoffed and thrust Laurence's driver's license in the officer's face. "Is this enough proof? I am who I am, and that's late for an important meeting."

Without giving the officer time to properly look at the card, he slid it back into his pocket and started to walk past the man. Clearly at a loss for what to do, the officer just watched him cautiously. He went over to a man in a suit, presumably his boss and spoke to him in rapid Spanish.

"He's a crazy American, sir! Do I stop him? He says he's late for a meeting."

The suited man glanced up at Jayson and then shook his head.

"Just let him go, Jose. We have enough to deal with right now."

Once Jayson was in the lobby he was greeted by a crowd of people. Many were newscasters, and just as many were armed men paid by the recently deceased Andres Mendoza. Jayson kept his head down as he pushed through the crowd. Despite his hat and sunglasses, he may still be recognized by the gang of Spanish mafia. He changed his gait, made himself reach up and rub his neck every few minutes in a false nervous gesture. When he was cleared of all the people he wandered over to one of the small sitting rooms off to the side. The lobby was still visible, and he had a clear view of everyone going toward the elevators.

Picking up one of the newspapers, he pretended to read.

"Watchtower in position."

"Took you long enough," Joe muttered through the comms unit. "I'm going in."

Jayson coughed once in affirmation. His mind wondered to his partner and best friend, stories above him, and their mission. As he did, his eyes scanned the room for the subject he was watching for. By now Andres Mendoza's body would have been removed from the hotel room, but it was possible some of his men were still there. Suddenly Joseph swore on the other end of the communication device.

"It's gone!"

"What? How is it gone? Check everything."

"I did. It's not in this room."

Jayson muttered his own curse. Just as he did he spotted his target. He looked surly, which was understandable considering the mess outside.

"Alpha approaching. Get out of there, now."

Joe shoved the clothes he'd been searching through to the ground and went back to the balcony. Clipping the repelling cord disguised as a pen back to his belt, he clicked it. Immediately he started to be pulled up. Gripping the railing of the balcony above him, he pulled himself up the rest of the way and unsnapped the cord, releasing it from the metal bar. Quickly he strode across the room and opened the door, closing it quietly behind him. Joe pulled off his leather gloves swiftly and stuffed them into his jacket pocket.

He passed the man whose room he'd been in moments before in the hallway. Joe resisted the urge to shake his head. People were so stupid. How had the man not noticed that his wallet had gone missing from his pocket for a whole twenty minutes? Then again, he had been pretty drunk. By the time Joseph reached the lobby Jayson was already gone. The newly-promoted second in command of the mafia was starting to get agitated and was arguing with the head of police. Joe slipped effortlessly out of the building unnoticed. After turning at the end of the hotel and walking down the length of it, he got into the waiting car.

"You're positive it wasn't there?" Jayson asked as he pulled out into traffic. He'd taken the hat off and tossed it in the backseat. Joe sighed and nodded, taking his 9mm from its hidden spot in the band of his pants. He checked it before setting it in his lap.

"Yes, I'm sure, Jayson."

Jayson sighed and banged a hand against the steering wheel. He swore again.

"This makes everything more complicated. Do you think they have it?"

"I would put my money on Ortega."

"We have to find that memory card," Jayson muttered.

"I know that, okay? I'm thinking."

Jayson muttered something Joe didn't quite catch and shook his head. They were going to be late if he didn't hurry. Jay glanced at the dashboard clock and then sped up. As though he'd read his friend's mind, Jayson continued to accelerate. When the police radar beeped he slowed, but mostly he sped through Madrid, taking sharp turns and ignoring traffic signs. When he finally reached their destination, he hit the gas and drove through the metal gate. The car screeched to a stop and they both stepped out, Joe tucking his gun back in its place.

Mateo Ortega was waiting for them inside of the abandoned warehouse, along with several other members of the Spanish mafia. Both Jayson and Joe knew that there were actually more than the three visible members in the warehouse with them. Ortega raised his eyebrows at the two as they approached.

"You sure know how to make an entrance, Mr. Bittermen." He said dryly.

"Check them," Ortega ordered his men, through with the formalities. The other two advanced immediately, each patting down one of the men. After taking both Jayson and Joe's guns, they retreated to their new boss' side.

"Come on now, gentlemen." Ortega said. "Is there really a necessity for such things?"

"You tell us," Jayson replied calmly.

"Where is it?" Joe demanded rashly, true to his legacy.

"Now, now, Henri." Jayson scolded. "Don't be so hasty. I'm sure Mr. Mendoza would like to negotiate a little more. He seems to be unsatisfied with our previous agreements each time we meet, though I personally think our price is a steal."

Ortega narrowed his eyes at the pair of men in front of him.

"Mendoza won't be here today."

"What a shame." Jayson said, clicking his tongue with a shake of his head. "Is he held up on other business?"

"No."

"Then what could possibly be the problem? We had a deal. Mendoza gives us the package, or we take it without pay. Surely you don't want that, do you?"

"There has been a….complication."

"How so?" Joe asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Ortega clenched his jaw a moment.

"Mendoza is no longer with us."

"You can't fire the head of the mafia." Jayson said. "Don't lie to me, Ortega. That would be a very bad idea."

"Mendoza was assassinated!" One of the men behind Ortega said suddenly. Ortega turned to glare at him fiercely. Jayson laughed.

"You really expect me to believe that? Who would be stupid enough to assassinate the Spanish ambassador? Even if most don't know he's the head of the mafia, that's still not a very smart thing to do. Do you have any suspects?"

"Enough," Ortega said with a sweep of his hand. "We're here on business. Shall we get to it?"

Ortega made a command, and immediately at least five guns were pointed at Jayson and Joe. Most of them were semi-automatic machine guns. Jayson made a nervous laugh. Joe narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him.

"Alright, alright. There's no need to get violent, gentlemen." Jayson said as he raised his hands slowly. "This is a business meeting, after all. Perhaps other arrangements can be….negotiated."

Ortega nodded and made a gesture with his hand. The guns were once again aimed at the roof.

"Show us the package, Ortega." Joe said. The Spaniard nodded and gestured again. A younger man, perhaps twenty years old, emerged from the shadows carrying a metal box. He walked to Ortega, where the older man opened it to reveal four canisters, each marked with a yellow-and-black radioactive symbol. Joe stepped forward eagerly, but then Ortega snapped it shut.

"Ninety thousand Euros." He said, taking the box in his hand.

"Ninety thousand? We agreed on—"

"Ninety thousand or you both die. It's your call, gentlemen."

"Ninety thousand it is, then."Jayson muttered as he opened his own briefcase while Joe held it.

He took out the appropriate amount and showed it to Ortega, who nodded. Together they stepped forward. Ortega held a gun in his right hand, the case in his left. Jayson met Joe eyes before stepping forward and the plan was set. Joseph snapped the briefcase shut while Jayson got closer to Jimenez. At the same time they reached for the other's goods. Jayson gripped the case with his right hand, and as he did he tossed the money into the air. He brought the case up, into Ortega's face. The man shouted in surprise and fired his gun before Jayson wrestled it out of his grip. Jay dove behind a pillar as gunshots rang out around the warehouse. He glanced over and saw Joe behind a similar pillar.

Joe looked over and nodded; Jayson slid the metal case across the dirt-covered floor forcefully. Joe caught it and in the same fluid movement, took out the small dagger he had concealed in his shoe. With precision he threw it at one of the men above him holding an AK-47. It caught the man in the throat and he toppled over, crimson blood dripping down his neck. Gunshots rang out once more, riddling the empty warehouse with bullets. Jayson sprang from behind the pillar and caught one of the men off-guard. He threw a punch to his diaphragm, knocking the air out of his lungs. As the man was disorientated, Jayson snagged the gun from his hand. Then he brought his knee up and caught the man's jaw with it, throwing his head back. Ducking once again behind a pillar, Jayson got Joe's attention with a shout and then tossed him the hand gun.

Ortega shouted orders to his men. As he did Jayson spotted the man's car. Inside was a laptop. The memory card! It had to be in there. Jayson could feel it in his gut. Signaling to Joe, he pointed to the car. His partner understood, nodding before ducking out and shooting. He hit his target perfectly, and the man crumpled to the ground. Ortega was still shouting orders as he took cover behind a stack of abandoned crates. Jayson leaned forward, shooting at one of the bodyguards. The bodyguard's own bullet barely missed Jayson's shoulder.

"Go!" Joe said. "I've got you covered."

Nodding, Jayson bent low and ran at top speed for the car, dropping behind it once he was close enough. Several shots were aimed at the car; Jayson heard glass shattering and metal being punctured. Looking up, he noticed the passenger window had a bullet in the middle. The glass splintered out from the source. Jayson reached up and slammed the back of his gun into it, breaking it the rest of the way. Then he unlocked the door and opened it. He reached for the computer in the back seat just as one of the men shot at him. Ducking, he managed to pull the computer to the front. Jayson nearly shouted in joy when he saw that he'd been right. The memory card was there, protruding ever so slightly from the front of the computer. Pressing it in, he pulled the tiny card out. Jayson slipped the memory card into his shoe, the safest place he could think of. Having succeeded, he started to back away from the car. But as he did, he heard the familiar sound of a gun being cocked right next to his ear.

Cursing himself for not paying attention through the noise of the gun fight, he slowly turned. The young man from before who had held the case was looking down at him. There was a semi-automatic rifle in his hands, his features twisted in disgust as he pointed it at Jayson.

"Not so fast." He said.

"Sorry, kid." Jayson said as he pulled the trigger. The younger man fell to the ground, red blood oozing from the bullet wound in his chest. Stepping over the body, Jayson located his partner. Joe was fighting physically with one man while shooting at the others and trying to avoid getting shot. Jayson aimed his gun at the weaponless man Joe was fighting and shot him in the head. Stooping down, he picked up the metal case.

"Let's go!" He shouted to Joe, who was now covering Jayson as he ran towards the exit. Joe ran backwards after him. When they were both there, they turned and bolted out the door. The sound of pursuit was heard from behind the thick metal door.

"You got it?" Joe asked breathlessly. Jayson noticed his partner had blood dripping down his face from a nasty gash on his forehead.

"Yeah. You okay?" He asked as they got back in their car. Jayson tossed the metal case into the backseat and started the car.

"Fine." Joe replied as the remaining four men rushed from the building. Putting the car in reverse, Jayson gunned the accelerator. Without stopping he turned the car forward and sped away. They were still in the part of town that was inhabited mainly by gangbangers and drug addicts. Needless to say, the streets were mostly empty. Two cars sped after Jayson in pursuit. Gun shots rang out from behind them, two bullets making purchase in the rear window. The glass shattered, showering the seats and floor with shards. Twisting in his seat, Joe aimed several shots at the pursuers. Swearing, he turned back around.

Joe pulled the glove-box open and rummaged through the extra clips of ammo they had there. Finding the right ones, he slid one into his pocket and the other in the gun. He tossed two at Jayson, who caught them with one hand and slipped them into his pocket. For several minutes Jayson outmaneuvered the men behind him. But every good thing must come to an end. The resounding bang of gunfire was immediately followed by the exploding noise of a tire popping. The car swerved, the front end slamming into a thick tree. Jayson's skull collided with the door window and his head burst into pain. The adrenaline pumping through his veins quickly swept it away as he got out of the car.

Beside him Joe did the same after grabbing the case from the back seat. The pair bolted forward, their legs pumping as fast as they could. Both did their best to dodge the bullets flying towards them. When they reached a more populated area of the city they began weaving between buildings. Eventually the mafia men had to get out and follow the two on foot. Joe turned down a less crowded street but Jayson continued down one of the main streets of the city. He started to cross the street and was too preoccupied to notice the car coming towards him.

The sedan screeched to a stop at the last minute, but not in time to avoid a collision. Jayson hit the hood and rolled, dropping to the asphalt beside the car. He lay on the ground a moment, allowing his head to clear. Swearing, he pushed himself to his feet and continued across the street. Unfortunately the delay enabled the men pursuing him to catch up. They started shooting again, and screams filled the street. Cars swerved, causing more accidents. Jayson lured the two men to a little-populated park where he faced them. The man with darker hair and crueler features shot at him, the bullet grazing the arm of Jayson's suit.

Jayson looked down at the damage, then back at the men both advancing quickly with guns pointed at him.

"This was my favorite suit!" He said in outrage, shooting down the man with three bullets to the chest. The man's partner shot at Jayson in return, but he had already hit the grass. Rolling to the side, Jayson sprang to his feet before ducking behind a nearby tree. He exchanged his empty clip with a full one before leaning out from behind his cover. He succeeded in hitting the man in the shoulder, but his enemy's bullet also reached its target. Pain seared in his upper arm as the bullet glanced off of it.

They don't give up, he thought as he felt someone wrap an arm around his neck from behind. Elbowing his captor, he grabbed the man's arm as it loosened just a bit. Jayson twisted out of the man's grip while turning the man's arm at a ninety degree angle. Keeping a hold of the man's wrist, Jayson kicked him in the chest, effectively pulling the man's shoulder out of socket. Turning back around, he shot down the man still advancing on him.

He sensed the man on the ground getting up, but was too slow to react. The mafia member kicked his legs out from under him. Jayson caught himself. But just as he sprang back up, the man pointed his gun straight at Jayson's head. Jayson dropped his gun and raised his arms. Closing his eyes, he tried to calm his racing heart. Was this it? Was this the end? Images of his wife and children filled his mind. Katelyn, with her dark brown hair and russet eyes; Connor, with hair like his mother's and laughing, gray-green eyes so child-like. And Selina, her tufty blonde-brown hair, her dark, gray-green eyes and her baby laughter.

I love you, he told his family mentally.

The echoing of a gunshot made him flinch. It took a moment for Jayson to register that he was still alive. Why was he still alive? His eyes flew up to find the man who'd been about to take his life seconds before on the ground, blood flowing from his temple.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go!" Joseph shouted, pulling Jayson's mind back to the task at hand. He bent down and gripped his gun before running after Joe.

"Do you have contact with technical?" Joe asked his partner as they ran. Jayson shook his head.

"I lost them at the warehouse."

"Same here."

"We've missed the deadline for the emergency pickup."

"Only by two minutes."

"It'll be at least ten by the time we actually get there." Jayson reminded him.

"Even still, we have to try it." Joe insisted. "I don't particularly want to stay in this city another God-knows-how-many hours with the entire Spanish mafia chasing after us. We've got to have a price on our heads at this point."

"I suppose you're right. Nothing can ever be easy for us, can it?" Jayson asked, shaking his head. They got many odd looks from locals and tourists alike as they ran towards the airport in the middle of the city. They slowed to a walk once they started to approach the entrance.

"We look like shit." Jayson pointed out. Joe turned to his partner.

"I've never heard of an airport kicking someone out because they 'look like shit'."

Jayson shrugged. He tucked his gun into his pants, Joe handing him the case of radioactive material and then following suit.

"There's always a first."

"Just shut up." Joe suggested.

They entered the airport to many stares. Both agents ignored them as they advanced to their ordered destination. Once there, Jayson put his hands on his head in order to catch his breath. Joseph breathed just as heavily beside him. A man stepped from behind a sign bearing a map of the airport.

"You're late, agents."

Jayson couldn't help but grin.

"Sorry, sir. We got a little held up and had to improvise."

"You look like shit."

"We know, sir." Jayson said with a laugh. The senior agent nodded once.

"And you've left a mess for us to clean up."

"Is there any other way?"

"Apparently not for either of you," the man grumbled, but grudgingly gave the two a smile.

"Well, come on then."

"A job well done, agents." The Director said. The old man looked perpetually tired, and Jayson wondered when the Company would force him to retire.

"Exactly what I was expecting from you…..including the very bloody, very public conclusion."

"Thank you, sir." Joe said, not able to restrain his grin.

"Though I have to admit….For a while there, I thought this one had gotten the better of you."